


Monster

by hellbrokeluce



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3491159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellbrokeluce/pseuds/hellbrokeluce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurel contemplates her life, herself, and Frank. Maybe being a terrible person isn't so terrible. // flaurel drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

"Who is this person?" her mother had asked."You've changed, Laurel."

Laurel smirked at the memory. Her mother had cornered her after the Christmas dinner fiasco, berating her. It was the usual litany of 'I-raised-you-better-than-that's and 'What-did-I-do-to-deserve-this's. Except this time they weren't aimed at her brother; for the first time in her life her mother's dramatic words were directed at her.

Laurel had always been the good kid. Kind and quiet. Always brought home good grades, always stayed out of trouble. The 'Why can't you be more like your sister?' comparison standard to which her brother was measured up against. It had been easy to just float along in life, never making waves, quietly watching from the sidelines.

How she hated that girl she had been.

Laurel realized she had always hated her. Up until now, she had gone through life wearing someone else's perfect quiet life. It was a mask that she hadn't know she was wearing until it'd slipped off. Back then, she hadn't known any other way to be. Now, her life was messy and fucked up and confusing. But at least it was real. Finally she was able to be the Real Laurel.

And Real Laurel was terrible.

This realization didn't bother her as much as she thought it would; how much it would if she truly wasn't terrible. Instead, she felt released.

Strong.

Powerful.

She looked down at her hands. The long, delicately tapered fingers. Her manicured nails. She could feel the hidden power that they possessed.

Frank loved her hands.

She would have never taken him for a hand-holder, but he was always touching them... lacing his fingers with hers, covering her delicate hand with his large, strong one and giving it a protective squeeze. He would trace a fingertip on her palm- along the various lines and markings found there. "This one means that you think too much," he'd told her one day, matter-of-factly. "You're rational to a fault and can make quick, informed decisions."

She chuckled, not even bothering to ask where he learned how to read palms. Frank was so full of surprises, she thinks that she'll probably learn something new about him daily.

"This one," he had continued, "is your life line. Yours is long, which means you're a rock whom people can count on to stay strong, even when things are difficult. But it's faint."

"Does that mean I'm going to die soon?" she teased, but genuinely curious.

Frank looked up from her palm with a wink. "No, princess. It just means you need to relax every now and then." He brought her hand up, pressing a kiss into it.

The night he had read her palm had been the same night he had told her he loved her for the first time. It had been much later, after they had cooked a delicious dinner together and had washed the dishes together and had made love together on the floor in front of the fireplace. She'd wrapped her arms around him and he'd buried his face into her chest, the pose almost motherly. The words were murmured against her naked flesh, his breath hot like a brand.

"I love you, Laurel."

She'd tensed up. Her defensiveness went into autopilot. "Do you even know me?"

Frank shot up, incredulously. "Are you serious? How can you even ask me that?" He raked a hand through his hair. "What, you think that little do-gooder boyfriend of yours really knew you? He knew the Laurel that you think you should be. The Laurel that your parents want you to be. Your twisted little study group might have seen glimpses of the real you, but they don't know you either." He reached out, grabbing her by the chin- forcefully, but not enough to hurt her. "I knew you the moment I first saw you. You're dark, Laurel. It might still be deep, deep enough that no one else can see it yet, but you can't hide it from me."

"I'm not dark-"

"Enough, Laurel! Stop saying all the bullshit you think you should say and just be real. The real you is good enough."

As the tears stung her eyes, threatening to fall, Frank pulled her in against his chest in a tight embrace.

"When you take someone's life," he continued, his voice low and dangerous, "you discover things about yourself. Sometimes you discover that you're not the person you've spent your whole life thinking you are."

She stilled in his arms. Her breath caught in her throat.

"You learn things about yourself, your true self. You learn what you're capable of. You learn what's real and what's bullshit. And, princess, most of it is bullshit. There are very few real things in this world." His hands tangled into her hair. "I am not a good man, Laurel. But I am real. And what I feel for you? It is real, too. And it's not for Perfect Laurel. It's for Real Laurel, because to me that is Perfect Laurel." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "It's for the Laurel that came to me early that morning, smelling like a burnt corpse. It's for the Laurel that not only has the brains to know what needs to be done but also has the strength to do it."

"Does that mean that I'm a monster?" Laurel whispered against his neck. "Sometimes I feel like I must be a monster."

Frank chuckled. "You and me both. But who says that's such a bad thing?"


End file.
